Blood on My Hands
by Silirt
Summary: Barabbas wanders, by some terrible transpiring forced to separate with the world he knows.
1. Birth

Barabbas was old, nearing death.

Or at least he should be.

The reality of the situation was that the man had received a curse. He grimaced as he touched his sword, his only ally, hearing bandits behind him. When one receives a curse from God, it is far from your average curse, boils, transfiguration, insanity- curses from God are much worse. The bandits approached, shouting their purpose in his direction.

"We know who you are. The Levites have sent us." It was the same message every time, after all. Barabbas turned, short, Roman blade at the ready.

"Tell them they must withdraw, they must never hound me again." It was bad enough they chased him out of his own country, worse yet all the way to India. These men were natives, their clothes silken and gold, black cords stretched between each of their hands, ends wrapped around each finger thirteen times.

"They tell us you are a marked man. They say you have trespassed the covenant, betrayed their god- the _invisible_ one. Is this true?"

"Yes." There was no more to say. Barabbas knew their traditions. These were men of Siva, and the fine robes meant they were sure to die. The strings with which they intended to kill him were used to prevent bloodshed, something they saw as unclean.

"Then you know why we are here. You know why you must die." Barabbas slashed out at the man sneaking up behind him, cutting the cord. He lunged forward to kill the next assailant, and then a third. He was strong, capable, and skilled with the sword, but by his count there were at least fifteen of them. Death would ride, ride on his pale horse and collect Barabbas's soul. Within minutes the man was surrounded. He knew their ways, how they would avoid fighting with any weapon other than cord. But it would not be enough. With but three remaining, the sable string found its way around Barabbas's damned throat and pressed tightly, forcing his faithful iron weapon out of his hand. The crude instrument clicked on the parched, rocky ground as the suffocation brought Barabbas to his knees. One of the men kicked his sword away and the condemned felt himself start to die. A sudden force collided with something above him, but he could not see with the way his head was turned. Before he knew it, he was released, thrown prostrate onto the ground, and he looked up at the man to whom he found himself kneeling. As his throat struggled to cough in the air, bloodshot eyes looked through the thick, unwashed strands of Barabbas's long, black hair, faded with strands of gray. The man looking down wore clothes unlike those of Barabbas, who had long since exchanged his prisoner's garb for native raiment. Strangely, the man reminded him of home, simple robes and familiar Middle Eastern skin, distinct from the dark tones of the men of Southern India. A heavily scarred hand reached down and helped Barabbas to his feet.

"Th-thank you." He choked. "Barabbas."

"Cain." At Barabbas's shudder, the clearly younger man raised an eyebrow.

"You're- but- I thought you were _ancient_-"

"This is a meeting of two men who have both heard of one another then, we have both great repute. But I cannot be sure, be not hurt by this." He stated politely.

"I wouldn't call it great repute- for either of us. We're both damned. We're cursed."

"And, so, we have attained repute by a certain crowd. But I must be certain you are who I assume you are. Tell me, why are these men chasing you?"

"The priests sent them. Or at least that's what they told me, what they said."

"While it would not be the first time Levites have hired hands and feet, we are likely looking at a private contract. But the lie stands. There must be some reason they told you this, considering they would believe you to die shortly after having heard."

"Years ago, the temple officials had me arrested. I was taken before the governor for some conspiracy charge. I also killed a man, but only when I was trying to get away. You know what they do to guys like-"

"Spare me. Now tell me, what did you say?"

"I said I'd destroy the temple, brick by brick. Somebody must've heard me, listened in."

"Everything is going to plan. Now tell me, was there anyone else with you? He would have been charged with the same crime, only he never killed anybody. I have to be certain."

"Yeah, there was this guy, pale from being beaten so badly, but underneath all that-"

"He was identical." Cain snapped.

"Yeah, an identical man, I could have sworn I was looking in a glass as they lead us down this hallway before we surfaced from the dungeon, came out of the prison."

"What happened next?"

"The governor, he addressed the crowd. He pulled this bullshit tradition out of his ass, I'd never heard of it before. Supposedly, every year, they let a guy go free for Passover and he wanted the crowd to vote. He pointed at the other guy, praised him like a god, said he was blameless, never did anything wrong in his damn life. Then he pointed at me, and he heaped every sin I'd ever committed right on top of my head, stressing the man I killed, saying I was trying to escape justice. He praised the people, shouted about their good judgment, truly I tell you, they teach you how to speak in Rome. The whole time I thought I was a dead man. I thought I'd get my ass nailed to a tree, damned for eternity, the works. I met the man's eyes. He was kneeling on the ground in pain, wasn't even moving his lips, but I could tell he was _praying._ All hope should have left him by now- but I crouch lower and I could see it in his eyes. Anger, pain, and… love. I… don't know how I could tell really. It was the same expression my old dad used to make when he had to hit me. I was a stupid little bitch in those days, I never cared."

"A crown- did a crown of thorns adorn his head?"

"Yeah…they must have used it to torture him or something, make him bleed."

"How did you get out of there alive? This is of paramount importance."

"Just as I decided this guy… there was no way this guy should die-certainly not on my part…I wish I could say I resigned, given in to death." Barabbas knew not why he opened up to this man in such a way. For years he had been alone, and only now did someone even speak his language.

"You were glad, were you not?"

"I don't like to admit it, I really don't. Not a day goes by I'm not sorry, but I was joyous at the slightest chance I could possibly have. But as the speech went on, I head more and more about his teachings, his words to the people."

"What was the verdict?"

"They killed him. His name was Jesus, just like mine. He was charged of the same crime, and they let me go. People threatened me, but they were determined to kill Jesus. I was out of town before I ever learned what became of him, heard of his fate."

"Jesus of Nazareth was nailed to a tree at Golgotha. He was buried in a donated tomb, and the reports say that there were no bones in it when his followers announced his resurrection."

"His followers… what ever happened to them, what was their fate?"

"They were hunted down and killed in nasty ways, or at least all but one. We'll probably never know of the rest of his life. Chances are, he ran, ran like he always did. The soldiers say he fled when Jesus was arrested in the garden. Unfortunately for the executioners, the religion spread all the same."

"What religion?"

"They call it the Christian Church."

"It's called the church of 'little Christ's'? That sounds insulting, cruel, even."

"Yes, originally it was an insult, but now it is their name." There was a pause, and Barabbas watched the other man turn around, still speaking, only having turned his gaze to the fading horizon.

"Is it true? Is your name really Cain?" came a sudden question from Barabbas.

"Yes. Do you know how long it has been since you were arrested?"

"It…can't have been more than thirty or forty years, even if it feels longer. I stopped keeping track of the days…I don't think I can anymore."

"Barabbas, you have wandered eight centuries. The world has changed since you left it behind.


	2. Enter Judas

"How the Hell-" Barabbas swung at Cain for anger. "-do you expect me to believe-" Cain easily dodged and returned a jab to the ribs."-it's been _that Goddamn long_?!" He leapt backward for his sword and Cain held a small blade up to his neck. His tone changed from the cold, educated man to something of another world.

"_I want you to look into my eyes and tell me whether or not I have any reason to lie." _The sound came out as a horrifying whisper of a voice. Barabbas was not yet through.

"First you tell me you're Cain. Don't get me wrong, I know he's real. But there's no way I'm anywhere near that old-"Cain cut him off suddenly.

"_Every word I have told you is true. My name is Cain, It is the year 814 Anno Domini and you have been cursed by God."_

"Okay, _Cain_ tell me this. Why do you care? You obviously know exactly what happened, you don't need my help to learn how the other Jesus died.-" He jerked his arm toward his weapon, but the other man pressed his own blade harder against his throat, drawing blood. His long sleeve of a deep brown fell back to reveal it was a farmer's tool.

"_That man is the Son of God. Do you think it coincidence that it is 814 AD, and around eight centuries since He died?"_ Barabbas's face changed from confused anger to dawning comprehension.

"They based the years off Him-" He stopped going for his weapon and Cain relented, helping him to his feet and dropping the voice. He stared off into the fading horizon, addressing Barabbas with his back turned.

"As the sun sets, Jesus Barabbas, one of the most powerful men in the world dies. He, like legions of others, is practitioner of a faith new to you-the church of Jesus Christ."

"They put the Son before the Father? What kind of religion-"

"Not exactly. There are more pressing explanations, though. You are like your counterpart in more ways than you realize. Do you know what your name means?"

"No, I can't read." Barabbas put it simply, not hiding his shame.

"Directly, it is 'Son of the Father'. You two were accused of the same crime. When Jesus of Nazareth was arrested, the soldiers report that He had just finished praying and that some of His followers were armed."

"He and I are almost exactly alike…"

"More precisely, He almost became you. You are the result of Fate, and Jesus defied the stars."

"What does that make me, then? Who am I?"

"Something else, I really do not know. As far as a matter of greater confusion, your curse is likely due to what happened at the trial. Because of your incredible similarities, it is not a far jump to assume Fate decrees that 'Jesus' whoever he may be, will suffer more than any other human."

"And because He was beaten and I lived…"

"Your opposite sufferings continued. He descended into Hell, only to conquer it. You must continue to live, unfairly, as you were unfairly pardoned." Barabbas grew angry.

"You're saying I deserve this? I killed a man, Cain! Thousands of men kill other men, some more than once, they kill repeatedly!"

"No man gets what he deserves. Your curse of life and sufferings thereof are equal to the death and pain of the Nazarene. But there are still more pressing questions."

"Am I immortal?" Barabbas blurted out.

"Probably not completely- All we know is that you have lived for a long time already, and that you will likely continue living. I have no intention of testing your indestructability. We shall act as though you are as fragile as a sick girl." Barabbas was apparently insulted, then simply confused once more.

"Look…what you're telling me is interesting and all, but what am I supposed to do?"

"Barabbas, do you believe that man follows Fate, or the Will of God?"

"Apparently, he does."

"I do not. I am of the opinion that a man chooses his own destiny. If God has cast this terror upon your life, why not use it?"

"Well, just because I don't deser-"

"Why not take revenge? Is that not what the law says?"

"I don't know, man…those laws are kind of old… plus I think they were copied from another civ-"

"Disregard the law, then. Disregard God. We shall repay this injustice."

"Are you sure about this? It seems like we're taking this too-"

"I told you my name was Cain, yes?"

"Yeah, you did." At these, Barabbas's words, Cain produced the tool from his robes once more.

"This is a sickle. I used it to kill my brother."

"You're- You're _the _Cain."

"And I have the same curse as you. We are not so different, you and I."

"I don't understand, you were sent off like everybody else… wouldn't you die?"

"I would, but God used my own words against me- I was a fool."

"I don't understand."

"'He who kills Cain will be avenged sevenfold'. That is what God told me when I complained that I would die separate from His place.

"Well, yeah, I remember that."

"He carved it into my forehead." Cain removed his hood to reveal a bald head with alien characters in black.

ושש שישה מאה שישים

Barabbas, illiterate, decided that Cain would explain them later. He was right, to an extent. "I'm untouchable Barabbas. Even Death would be a fool to take me. My bones and organs refuse to decay. I am forced to wander about for eternity."

"And that's why you came to find me, sought me out."

"I have decided to use my curse. Will you?" In truth, Barabbas knew not.

"I guess I'll stick with you for now."

"Good. We have multiple places to go. The first is not far from here. They call it Kashmir."

"What are we going to do there?"

"The region is the basic water supply of millions an old friend of mine lives there."

"Old? How old is this one? Old as I am?"

"Not exactly, but would you not find it hard to befriend those you knew would not be around for long? In cases like ours, we do best to stick together." The two of them started off on a small road Cain found, probably having traversed it before. It was a day of discovery for Barabbas, and it was as his friend trekked along in front, not even looking where he was going, instead looking out over the hills archetypal of India, likely for more roving tribes of bandits. _He's been doing this kind of thing since before I was born…God only knows how long._ Experience weighed heavily on the man's gray eyes.

"Who exactly is this friend?" After significant time on the road, Barabbas could bear the question no longer.

"We're almost there. You'll see him yourself." In a few hours, he spied a man standing before a beautiful lake at the foot of majestic mountains. Up close, the man was beaten and worn, with clear impressions of rope on his neck, as though someone had tried to strangle him. "This man's name is Judas. I trust you will get along famously."


	3. Arrival

"Hi…Judas. Have we met before?" The man looked somewhat familiar, but, if anything, the red marks on his throat were new.

"You may have seen me, I don't know." Barabbas did not pursue the matter. Cain started as he helped Judas carry a heavy sack from a deposit, probably by camel. The deposit was simply a camel's blanket on the ground covered in goods. From what the curious onlooker could tell, there were eight tall storage jars and the sack that made its way to the lake's edge.

"This one probably took a whole camel by itself!" Cain declared as he set the sack down. "Give us a hand, will you Barabbas? Dump those in the lake." Barabbas decided Cain was trying quite hard to be likable as he seized a jug and carried it over.

"What's in these things, what do they contain?"

"It is a long story. It will get pursuers to cease their hounding, as pursuers do." Barabbas dumped a liquid of a light brown into the clear waters. It spread out and dissipated.

"Oh, I get it. This'll cover our scent if they have dogs, if they pursue us with hounds."

"No, this will kill them when they drink out of the lake." Judas interjected. The man's responses were curt and without extra words.

"That won't work, it spreads out. This is a huge lake, anyway."

"We brought more than enough." Cain saw Barabbas's expression and quickly responded.

"Do not worry, this will be null almost immediately after the targets drink it. Besides, this lake is only a marginal water supply. There will not be too many casualties."

"Well, okay, but if they see bodies around the edge, won't they go somewhere else?"

"There's nowhere else." Came Judas's answer. Cain acted quickly.

"But, of course, there is always the chance that nobody except your pursuers drink from here." Barabbas had just dumped the last storage jar into the lake, deciding he had better go along with Cain and noticed a fog in the water. Addressing this, his new friends quickly poured white powder from the heavy sack into the water, clearing it immediately. In minutes, they were gone, heading into the setting sun. It would be days before the name "Judas" would register in Barabbas's memory. In fact, the man could hardly care to speak to his companion, who would consistently respond sharply, and made Cain seem amiable by comparison. In truth, neither man could be considered friendly, but they were Barabbas's friends nonetheless. After a few arguments and failed attempts at conversation with the new man, Barabbas gave up on him entirely by the time the small party reached Persia. As the curt speaker spoke to a shop keeper about replenishing his pack, it dawned on Barabbas that he himself had not eaten in centuries. This man, however, it seemed he was always eating.

"How old did you say he was again?" Barabbas asked Cain while their friend was turned around.

"Judas's death was a strange one, friend. He is not like we are; he died, but came back. As truly as we are alive, all that mattered was timing. He killed himself the minute your counterpart expired- and his sin was the first forgiven. His soul, on the way to damnation, but not there, returned to his body, for it is impossible for a soul to be collected from a man free of debt."

"But, why has he not died- not lived and perished again?"

"His body is dead already. He keeps it going, eating, sleeping, the like- but it will never heal of its wounds."

"How does it even work, in what way can it even function?"

"His organs and muscles will be viable as long as he eats, his brain will work as long as he believes he is alive, and his soul will remain tethered, through all his pain."

"That's terrible. I can't believe anyone can live like that."

"That is far from the worst part. He has no idea why he still walks the earth, and we must never tell him. I was there when he died, that was how we met. If he realizes he is dead, his brain will cease to function and no longer be a suitable container for his soul."

"But isn't it better if he dies at this point? He's falling apart."

"Because we cannot tell him what happened on that day, there is no way he can receive salvation. I have had to keep him in the dark for centuries, and, fortunately, he prefers to be apart from other people now. Outside of salvation, there is really no point to dying."

"I guess. But…If we're going against God, does that mean we're on Satan's side?"

"No."

"Okay, but would he at least not hate us for being human, being in the favor?"

"No."

"So he'll never help us escape Hell."

"Never." Cain agreed. Judas returned with more supplies which he loaded onto his own Spartan-trained back, pieces of skin missing around the back of his collar. With renewed effort, Barabbas had empathy for the man before him.

"You know, Judas, if there's anything you want to ask us, let us know." Barabbas internally congratulated himself for having gotten the man's name right.

"What's Cain hiding?" Judas's clipped voice came immediately and Barabbas stopped with the congratulations. Apparently, eight hundred years was more than enough for Judas to piece a thing or two together. Cain did not interfere.

"I don't know the full extent of it and neither does he. He was asking me… about where I might have seen you before." Barabbas realized it was an excellent lie.

"Go on."

"I think I have actually. You were one of the guys who followed the other Jesus, the Nazarene."

"So that's it." Cain played it off equally well.

"Why didn't you just ask me?" Judas's question once more sounded like no question.

"I could never be sure and didn't want to jump to any conclusions. It is no matter of great importance anyway, just a suspicion in the back of my mind that you may know something." Cain lied.

"If it's any consolation, he asked me about that guy too, it was one of the first things he said, the things he said before he started jumping down my throat." Barabbas added. Judas gave them both a cursory look and turned west once more.

"We've got ground to cover." The man started off and Cain came quickly in behind, better at fostering an illusion with his body than Barabbas. It would not be long before the three of them stopped for the night at Judas's request. Barabbas thought it more than fair, considering he had not slept or even stopped walking for days. As Judas ducked into a small tent, Cain walked off to read, as he informed his almost immortal friend. Barabbas was left alone, lying on the ground and staring up into a sky of solid black. It was a peculiar view, stranger yet there was no moon to be found.

"I'll have to admit, that was quite the lie back there." A woman stood staring down at him as he bolted upright, springing backward onto his feet. She carried no weapon Barabbas could see, but any woman who appeared out of nowhere was not to be trusted in his mind, not a woman with hair going down below her back, not a woman with an attractive, pointed looking face, not a woman with a piercing stare. "You don't need to know who I am." He lunged to her left side for his sword, the hilt of which he had used to stake down the tent. Figuring Judas dead asleep, he grabbed the hilt and the visitor made no attempt to stop him.

"What do you want with us?! What's your business here?!" Barabbas clutched his weapon several feet away from the new arrival. She spoke in a flat tone, but her voice gave no impression of masculinity. Instead it carried a deceitful practicality; one Barabbas felt he had heard before some time in his life.

"I represent our Unholy Master, and you have strayed from his herd."

"What? Why does Satan hate us?"

"The doubtful one has been defeated for the last time. He had once succeeded in bringing man down to his level, to the thousandth generation they would have been damned. You and your counterpart are responsible, you for getting arrested, you for not taking his place. You are to report to Al Abaster, where you will be killed." As Barabbas lunged, she disappeared, gone in a flash of fire. His sword lodged itself into no welcome flesh, and Barabbas saw no one around.


	4. Iram

"CAIN!" Barabbas shouted as soon as his sword had cut nothing. The man ran from over a nearby hill, weapon out. Judas heaved himself out of the tent.

"Barabbas! What's going on?"

"Where's Al Abaster, have you been there before?"

"What? I come over here and you, shouting with a sword-"

"There was a woman-she was here one minute and gone the next. She disappeared into nowhere the second she got through telling me I disappointed the unholy something."

"A witch? She would have grown out her hair, probably never cut it in her life."

"It came down to her ass."

"Naked?"

"No, she was in solid black. I've never seen anything like it."

"She's no devilish scarlet, then. If anything, she has experience. Did she give any clue as to who she was?"

"She said I didn't need to know who she was, she refused to tell me her name."

"We'd better get going. Get everything together, you two." Judas immediately got to work, hanging from his side a length of rope coiled into loops as one that reached his knee from his waist.

"We're better off armed." Barabbas, however, was confused.

"Going? You don't mean Al Abaster?"

"That's exactly where we're going. We need to know what's going on here. Al Abaster is one of the fortresses of Satan in the human world. We make our way there swiftly and quietly, or the goblins will kill us on the way."

"What could we possibly get out of this?!" Barabbas's anger grew.

"Induction!" Cain shouted, alarming Barabbas. "Thousands of years go by, Barabbas! I search everywhere for my one potential ally, but nobody notices when he strikes! Can you comprehend-" Cain turned, grabbing a pack and slinging it onto his back, calming down. "Imagine what it's like to have the only entity in the universe willing and capable of helping you be equally inclined to hide and employ the foulest and most silent subterfuge, constantly having the upper hand on every enemy. You'll hear the faithless complaining with the passing minute that God has killed more than his enemy- but the truth is we have no idea of the scores of bodies from him that pile up at the same rate. If his goal is to eradicate the faith, why would he do it out in the open?"

"Brilliant…" Barabbas started, helping with the necessary gear. The three of them made a grueling pace to the sea, due southwest. Boarding a ship, Cain gave them the full story on the destination. Cain produced the exact fare necessary as the captain came around for it.

"Al Abaster is a small village in the middle of a scorched wasteland called the Empty Quarter, the _Rub' al Khali_. Make no mistake, a fortress all the same, it is completely surrounded inside and out by curses. I've a fair idea of the plan to be launched upon our arrival, but there are multiple items you both should know." He began to pace about the deck before his comrades, no one else on board paying close attention. "The entrance is lightly guarded, usually with witches. The idea is, if they have nothing to guard, walls would not make sense. Where we're going , witches are everywhere. It's not uncommon to see two or three in the dessert, but more and the observer will assume they're there for a reason."

"But you've been there before." Barabbas guessed.

"A few thousand years ago, the last time it surfaced above the ground."

"What surfaced from the ground? Why?"

"Most of the fortress is underground, like an ant hill. On top, it's a large, nomadic tent. It stays up from sunrise one morning to sunset the next. Inside, no time has passed, but untold millennia have gone on outside. No one knows when next it will surface. If we're lucky, we can force the witches to arrange a conference without any external issues."

"How do we do that, accomplish such a thing?"

"There are three of us, and no more than five of them. Judas ties up one as she strays from the group, you and I move in on the rest of them. They have impossible skill, but we have an advantage."

"What is it, what could that be?"

"I can't be killed, and they're stuck between a rock and a hard place." Cain removed and reversed his dark brown robes as he spoke. "They can't leave, not completely. If they abandon their post, they'll be killed." On the inside, they were a significantly lighter brown, and he pulled them over his head. "If they fight, causing any more death than that place has already seen, they attract someone stronger than Satan." Barabbas was too distracted by Judas's reserved reaction to the symbols on Cain's bald head to call for clarification. "They'll try to send us away without killing us." There were few more questions before they agreed to allow Judas some sleep on the boat. It was a monotonous journey after that, but not long to the immortal. Just as the ferryman grew suspicious of them, they reached the southern extreme of what Cain called the Empty Quarter.

"Where do we go now, where are we headed?" Barabbas asked.

"We're traveling northwest. There's one stop on the way, it's called the Iram of the Pillars." Upon their arrival, after significant time had passed, there was a single man sitting there, introducing himself as Ibn Ishaq, as Cain informed Barabbas. To him, the language was incomprehensible. Upon hearing the Aramaic, the man inquired to Cain, as he would later relate, if they were Jews or People of the book. Cain assured him otherwise, and handed a signed note with what looked to be a single symbol in some sort of foreign calligraphy to the aged man. Reading it, the man showed a shocked expression, and Cain had no trouble asking if they may stay for the night. Barabbas was bursting with questions the minute their host was out of earshot.

"What did that letter say?"

"It's a signed note by an important man, he says I have permission to spread his word."

"What word?" As Barabbas spoke, Cain quickly dug multiple holes in the sand with his hands.

"There's a new faith out, Barabbas, and this guy was the proprietor. I met him one time. I could tell he was going places, and figured a stamped letter of approval would work in my favor sooner or later. I told him I was going to spread his religion, and that I would need one." Barabbas had personal qualms with the dishonesty, but there would be time for them later. "These-" Cain explained as he pulled three small statues out of his pack "-are goddesses, Meccan, I assume. They were worshipped before the new religion took hold of the region. The truth is, Barabbas, I knew I would meet this man, or someone like him. This is a lost city, and there will always be those who look for it, if not guard it. The rest of the plan will unfold in the morning. Pretend to sleep." Barabbas got down on his back and adopted a believable position, and mocked nodding off. In minutes, the older man from before came in with a long, curved sword.

"I knew that letter was a fake-or given to someone else. There is no way you were alive with the prophet. It's impossible." Barabbas sleepily rolled over onto his back.

"Oh, it's real enough. It belonged to my grandfather. We've preserved it well."

"Why are you here? Tell the truth!"

"I know this place is sacred, and I just figured out why." He produced the statues and gestured at the holes in the ground. "The prophet was here- he told me."

"It is common knowledge- all men of these parts have knowledge of the Quran."

"He told me he buried these here- buried them to surface later, restored to their former glory."

"They're covered in sand and dirt…" Even Barabbas could tell Ibn's observation was accurate. Cain must have taken great care in making the story.

"I have just now excavated them. Your men have been on watch here ever since the prophet left, yes?" Cain had not even stood, and the man was putting away his alien sword.

"Of course- these…these goddesses must have been here the entire time."

"Thank you Ibn, I leave the rest to you. Now I need some sleep." Cain deposited the statues to his right side and feigned drifting off. Barabbas could only imagine the genius and experience of his traveling companion. _I'll do well not to cross him, not to get on his bad side._


	5. Tongue

"Cain, there was a reason all that happened, a plan behind it, wasn't there?"

"Yes, but there's no need to talk about it. I'm just messing with his and a few people's heads." The three of them had started early in the morning, and Cain was less friendly than usual, perhaps eager to have left Ibn. They made their way across the desert, and with the sight of the travelling tent, the companions were for the first time glad, having finally some good news. All of a sudden, Judas halted, choking. He coughed up blood as he fell to his knees, friends rushing to his aid, checking for wounds.

"Judas, what's going on, what's happening to you?" The man was unable to answer Barabbas's question. Cain helped him out of his light robes and revealed a patchwork of stitching, uneven lines across his body at seemingly random intervals. An isolated line was bleeding. "Cain, what's this, tell me what's going on!" Cain did not answer but cut the stitches on the wound with his farming blade and inspected an organ of some sort.

"His liver- We need a witch. Don't worry, there are probably only two, they're not expecting us this early-" A crowd of six women, younger than Barabbas outwardly, gathered around them.

"We aren't expecting you? There are probably only two of us?" Asked one.

"We need your help! You say you're going to kill Barabbas and he's here, not wandering about a huge distance east of here!" Barabbas was struck by the statement.

"Then why is it good that there are only two of us?" They were practically mocking him and Cain was longing to kill them all, as his eyes suggested to Barabbas. Judas stopped struggling, arms limp.

"It can be hard to talk to a large group of people at times! Look, we're sorry we didn't send ahead, but our friend here needs help." Barabbas noticed that Cain's hood had fallen back and the witch stared at the characters on his forehead.

"I shall oblige. Fear nothing, his liver will be repaired. He will live…or perhaps continue to die, however you wish to put it." She sauntered away and the other maids, as Barabbas now noticed to be wearing white, helped to steady Judas on Cain's back, keeping him level. Barabbas followed, unsure of what to do, hands kept far from his sword.

"_Cain!_" whispered Barabbas as soon as their friend was taken to a veiled section of the large tent. His friend, without turning away from the spines of the books on a small bookshelf in the tent, indicated it was safe to speak. "_What are they doing, what's happening to Judas?"_

"_If my Theban is any good, these books all have something to do with the passage of time. It's not impossible that they now attempt to restore his liver to an earlier state, or use magic to work on it with impossible speed. This also explains another mystery._

_ "What could that be, which mystery?"_

_ "The fortress only surfaces once every thousand years and yet these are the same people I saw the last time I was here."_

_ "They're slowing down their aging, keeping themselves young?"_

_ "Either that, or they slow down the passage of time in the fortress. A thousand years go by outside, only a day inside." _Almost immediately a witch emerged from the operation.

"He needs not be bothered. His recovery is certain."

"Of course. Thank you." came Cain's quick answers.

"I recognized you…Cain. You were here quite a long time ago, and I confess I am intrigued how _you _managed it. Tell me, how do you keep so young?" Cain chuckled before he spoke.

"In truth, Slith, it wasn't intentional. The Mark is a curse from God, I cannot be killed, not even by him on the pale horse." The woman, Slith, persisted, more interested than before.

"Death himself…can't even touch you?"

"Not a hair." Joked Cain, garnering a false laugh. "But anyway, I must confess myself to have been perusing your itinerant library. Is it true you control the surfacing of your fortress with power over the passage of time?"

"You have figured out our secrets, Cain…" she said in a humorous manner, distinctly feminine in Barabbas's mind. "But you are not quite there. Al Abaster does not _surface_ like a sleeping dog- it is not there at all. Every thousand years it exists for a day- and inside it is as if no time has passed. You said you brought Barabbas- this is he?"

"Yes. I sought him out based on Levite records, and I read a prophecy that he would be attacked in northern India at the death of Charlemagne in Europe. There had been a chain of assailants tracking him, and it was but a matter of time before I showed up."

"Well, then- Cain- if that is your real name. We ask that you depart." Without any shine, Cain's cold eyes stared intently now, and he resumed the voice Barabbas had heard only once before, advancing to hair's breath away from the witch's face, voice low but clear to all.

"_Do you portend me your enemy or do the fires of damnation and death frighten not you?"_ Judas, probably not having heard this voice before, was fortunately still away. The witch did not respond to Cain's question, staring back with no weakening of resolve. It was clear to her that Cain would not give up his friend, though she had not even to ask it of him.

"_In your short foolish lives do you portend to know more than I? Do dare you; fain would I."_

"The master would be pleased with his death- of this we can be sure."

_"So certain are you that you would at stake place your life? I for the contrary claim."_ The witch circled him, not once faltering eyes from his gaze.

"I'll tell you what Cain. We waste our time. We call the master. We tell him you wanted to make sure. We waste his time."

"You're bluffing." Inserted Barabbas.

"Your friend is too, I'm afraid. The last thing he wants is for the devil to confirm me."

"_To your misfortune will this resolution be- there remains but one thing left to do!"_ As Cain removed what he would later identify as a demon's tongue from his pack and threw it on the ground before them, Slith did the same with a potion in a glass vial. The objects hit the floor and a voice flowed softly through the room, assaulting all with its piercing whisper.

"_What… is this? One … would think with so many summons- a purpose would be."_

"Master, this Cain has asked us to verify the warrant on Jesus Barabbas." Slith knew better than to delay from what Barabbas could tell.

_"Cain… my first boy. The child of sin." _The woman was taken aback, the real Cain before her, certainly at an advantage. She tried again with greater resolve and clarity.

"Unholy one, as your most loyal servant on Earth, I speak for my fortress when I say that this man must die for his insolence. Barabbas helped to foil your plan and were it not for him, all of humanity would be damned. Pontius Pilate would have freed your enemy." A thin laugh echoed.

"_Irony itself… a moral man and his moral deed- Pilate would have slain man in place of the Son of God- though he knew nothing. And it was _he _who in the way…fell." _Barabbas's chest heaved at the mention of himself. Cain presented a counterargument.

"At the same time, as must we now, acknowledge that this man is the opposite counterpart. He is not only a capable ally, but one worthy of such an honor that is yours." Cain explained.

"You cannot possibly ignore the threat he poses!" Slith's anger had built up to the point of a sudden explosion, and she immediately regretted it. A small flame caught on the hem of her long white dress and spread until the garment was completely aflame, woman inside flailing around on the ground desperately trying to extinguish the flame. Before long, the fire burned itself out and Slith was helped to her feet by the other witches as they covered her and escorted her out, covered in burns.

_"Absurdly…perhaps one such as I-" _ the voice whispered into Barabbas's ear. _"-fears nothing and no man, surely not … one such as you."_ Barabbas noticed that the demon's tongue, which had been slowly charring away, was completely gone as he last heard the voice. From what he could tell, the potion had evaporated, or perhaps sunk into the ground.

"Cain… did we just win that argument, leave her defeated?"

"Yes, Barabbas, I suppose so. It's sad I lost that demon's tongue, though, it's a magical artifact that seems to help me speak… even if I want to speak with Satan."


End file.
